


Brother of Mind

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Castiel, Angel Whump, Angel Wings, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Gabriel, Kid Castiel, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Kid Trauma, Mary Lives, Men of Letters Bunker, Traumatised Castiel, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'  A tiny six year old boy with fluffy dark black hair and stunningly blue eyes was gazing up at her, huddled in a dirty tan trench coat and a too big child's black suit. From his shoulder blades hung a pair of beautiful raven black wings, towering above the kid's head; the shiny fragile feathers were twisted and broken and a large bloody gash stretched across the left wing.</p><p>"Mary Winchester?" The child asked, his voice high-pitched and shaking, yet holding some hidden ancient knowledge. "Please. I need your help."  '</p><p>.....</p><p>Mary and John never expected they would end up adopting a kid angel. But that's precisely what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first piece of work on AO3. So I'm very excited. I have a FanFiction.net account under the name Alexia Blackbriar as well, and have other fics posted there. But this one is original for this account.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This was originally a one-shot, and I am undecided whether or not to continue it.

Mary and John Winchester escaped from their burning house that fateful night, a pyjama-wrapped four year old Dean in his father's arms and a tiny wide-eyed heavy breathing Sammy in his mother's. The only reason they had survived was the fact that when Mary had entered Sammy's nursery to check on him when he was crying, she had been carrying a bottle of holy water and a handful of salt. The yellow-eyed demon had slipped into the shadows of the night as the Winchester family watched their house go up into roaring flames.

John had demanded explanations, and Mary had explained to him about demons and ghosts and vampires and hunters. He had decided from then on, he would learn to be a hunter to protect his wife and his two kids. Mary taught him somewhat reluctantly about fighting the monsters in the darkness, but taught him all the same. They moved from state to state, somehow running while chasing. They knew, somewhat, that the yellow-eyed demon wanted Sammy for some reason. They didn't know why. But it scared them. They kept Dean and Sammy locked up in motel rooms when they weren't at kindergarten.

Soon, they discovered the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, when Dean was six and Sammy was two. John insisted they move there, as it was protected from demons and ghosts with wards and iron fixtures. Mary relented and they packed up, travelling there quickly in the Impala with Dean and Sammy curled up together in the back seat. When they arrived, Dean immediately ran down a corridor and claimed a room, and declared the room next to his connected by a door his little brother's. His parents smiled and set the two boys up in the local school. They chose a room away from the main rooms of the bunker and chose a tall table that the boys wouldn't be able to see over, laying out maps and long gone cold trails, tracking the yellow-eyed demon across the states. They were still hunting, occasionally killing a few werewolves, vampires and ghosts around the area, but both Mary and John were determined to keep their sons away from the supernatural.

However, on a cold snowy winter day, late in the evening as the last traces of the sun wavered below the horizon, the hunting couple soon realised that hope was dashed. The wind was buffeting and freezing, able to make anybody shiver even if you were wrapped up in a big warm fluffy coat.

Mary looked up from where she was seated on a sofa next to her husband on her laptop as somebody rapped at the door frantically. She exchanged a glance with John, picking up a vial of holy water and a handgun full of salt rounds before wrapping a scarf around her neck. She opened the bunker door cautiously and immediately her eyes widened and she gasped in shocked.

A tiny six year old boy with fluffy dark black hair and stunningly blue eyes was gazing up at her, huddled in a dirty tan trench coat and a too big child's black suit. From his shoulder blades hung a pair of beautiful raven black wings, towering above the kid's head; the shiny fragile feathers were twisted and broken and a large bloody gash stretched across the left wing. It looked like not only was the left wing injured, but the right wing was sprained too, as the child held it against him gingerly, like someone would hold a broken arm to their chest to protect it. The wings were quivering masses, shaking off the cold wet residue of falling snow and blood dripped slowly to the ground into a small puddle of crimson beneath him. In the kid's hand was a small but long glimmering silver blade.

"Mary Winchester?" The child asked, his voice high-pitched and shaking, yet holding some hidden ancient knowledge. "Please. I need your help."

Mary didn't swear, because that was a child standing in front of her with WINGS and an actual SWORD. Mary just stared in stunned disbelief as the child gave another small helpless whimper and collapsed down into a bloody heap of battered rags and frayed feathers in front of her. After a moment, she leant down, her mothers' instincts coming over her and, checking the empty road carefully, she picked up the heaving ball in her arms and quickly brought it inside. The child was small and light, as if his bones were hollow like a birds and easily breakable. Mary was afraid one wrong move and she'd snap him in half.

John leapt up to help her as she carried the winged child further into the bunker. They quickly picked out an unused three-bed room and laid the kid down on the bed onto his stomach, stretching out the wings to their full span and pushing the other two beds beside it to account for the large wingspan. Each trembling raven wing must have been at least two and a half metres wide on each side.

"Mary Winchester?" The kid repeated, his voice quiet and much weaker than before, but more desperate.

She ran a soothing hand through the child's wet black hair. "It's alright, you're safe now. What's your name?"

"C-Castiel," the winged child said, stuttering slightly as his teeth chattered together from the cold, even as Mary swathed him with warm blankets. "Are you Mary Winchester?"

"Yes, I am," Mary responded gently. "Now I don't mean to be rude, but what are you, Castiel, and what are you doing here?"

Castiel tried to keep his voice level as he answered, "I'm an Angel of The Lord and... my brother was delivering messages to the prophets and I wanted to come so he got me a vessel and we flew down to Earth but when we got here there were demons and Gabriel was fighting them and -" Dear god, the poor thing was absolutely terrified, trying to keep back sobs. "- and he told me I needed to run and find Mary Winchester so I ran but one of the demons caught my wings and he hurt me and I hit him with my sword like Michael said to do during battle training but I was scared so I kept running and then I found you -"

"Whoa, whoa, Castiel," Mary soothed him. "It's okay. Slow down a little, you're not running a marathon."

"But Zachariah always says to tell people what they want to know as quickly as possible when they order you to o-otherwise they w-will be mad and they'll punish you and he always shouts at me when I'm too slow or I trip over because I'm tired and then Gabriel hugs me and tries to make it all better and make me tell him who hits me but Z-Zachariah says I can' tell anybody or that would be real bad and I don' want him to punish me more and I -" Castiel cut off, choking, and he dissolved into tears, curling up with his shivering wings wrapping around his frame.

John sat down next to the angel and looked up at his wife with a hard expression. He obviously still didn't trust Castiel. Neither did Mary really, but seeing those big blue eyes full of tears and the trembling wings had broken her down. Neither of them liked seeing kids getting hurt, but hearing that an angel was being abused was way above the line.

"Mary, can I speak with you a second?" John asked, his voice cold.

"John," Mary sighed.

"Now, please."

Both of them left the room and closed the door slightly. John turned around, looking at the sliver of angel they could see through the crack suspiciously.

"I don't trust him," John said flatly. "He could be lying."

"John, I'm not very sure about this either. But he's a child. He's covered in blood. He's obviously hurt. We can't just leave him to bleed out."

"M-Mrs Winchester?" came a terrified murmur from inside the room.

And Mary clenched her fists as she spotted the tiny bundle of feathers of blankets vibrating uncontrollably in terror and fear on the centre of the bed. The little miniature silver sword was clutched in the small angel's hands defensively, liked he was terrified that something would suddenly appear beside the bed and attack him.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I'll leave," the angel stammered in a whisper. "I dun' want you to fight. Please don't fight." The tears were streaming down his face. "I - I understand. You don't want me. Nobody in Heaven wants me either, 'cos I'm bad and I'm gonna fall like Lucifer and everybody hates him too."

"Oh, Castiel," Mary murmured, entering the room again and kneeling down, wiping the wetness from the angel's cheeks. "Why do you think that?"

"'Cos Michael has white wings and Anna has cream wings and Uriel has grey ones, and Gabriel has gold and Balthazar has green," Castiel sniffled. "And my wings are black and black means I'm bad 'cos when Lucifer fell his white wings got turned black by hell fire and he's 'pposed to be evil." Castiel sobbed quietly, his wings shaking.

John was staring wide-eyed at the winged child. Mary shot him an accusing look. What were you supposed to say to a child whose evil brother had the same colour wings as him, and therefore everyone else in his family thought he was evil? How could you respond to something like that? And some sense of fierce protection came other John. Protection like he had protected his wife and children ever since the fire. Protection like how he had held Dean in his arms, calming him from nightmares where he was burning alive and Sammy was dying. And now he felt obligated to protect this helpless child too.

"Please don't fight Mrs Winchester, I dun' want you to fight. When Mikey and Luci were fighting they were yellin' and stuff like you are now and they were brothers but now they hate each other and I dun' want you to hate each other 'cos I like you."

John finally seemed to have softened slightly. He reached down and carefully took the angel blade away from the child, placing it on the counter. "We won't fight, Castiel. It's alright, it's over now. And you're not evil or bad. Your brothers and sisters are just jealous because they have boring wings while yours are badass rock star wings."

Castiel blinked at him in awe. "You think so?"

"Of course. I know I would be."

It was clear that both the hunters had finally agreed that they were going to care for the angel, at least until his brother, Gabriel, came back for him. Mary gathered the fledgling into her arms and rubbed his lower back just below his wings soothingly, rocking him in her lap as she hummed gently, trying to calm down the upset tiny angel.

"Nobody is gonna hurt you here, Castiel," Mary reassured him quietly. "You're safe with us, angel. You're safe." Castiel gazed up at her with big watery fearful cobalt eyes and something inside of Mary shattered. "Now, you need to lie down so John and I can look at your wings. We just want to help and stop them hurting, okay? Is that alright?"

The angel gave a small nod and turned back so he was collapsed on his stomach on the bed, his wings awkwardly splayed out behind him, and Mary was relieved to see he wasn't shaking as much as before from fear and cold.

"'Kay, Mrs and Mr Winchester, just be careful," he whispered, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Mary motioned to her husband silently to fetch the first aid kit from the main room and gently pressed her hand into soft baby down, running her fingers through the feathers. Castiel stiffened and gave a small gasp, flinching away from her hand, and his wing jerked out of her hand.

"Castiel, honey?" Mary questioned worriedly. "Did that hurt?"

After a moment, Castiel replied in a small voice, "No, it's jus' sensitive."

"Alright," Mary said. "Can I keep going?"

"Yeah, jus' be careful. Wings are important for flying and I wanna keep flying, Mrs Winchester. I don't wanna haveta stop flying like Anna did when she broke her wing trying to climb the Tree of Life, 'cos she said that was boring and it felt like she was dying 'cos her wings didn't work."

"Of course."

When John returned with the first aid kit and some wet warm cloths, Mary was gently stretching the wings out to full span, smoothing out tangled feathers and easing the tension in the traumatised angel's shoulders. Castiel seemed to gave finally passed out, the poor thing, his eyes closed and head to one side, his breathing steady and shallow, though it sometimes hitched when Mary twisted her fingers the wrong way through the feathers.

They worked silently through the night, stitching the wound and wrapping it, setting the sprained wing and wiping blood from the feathers with long even strokes. They both supported the angel as they stripped him of his trench coat and suit, dressing him in a spare pair of Dean's blue space ship pyjamas that looked massive on him, cutting slits in the back so they could carefully pull his wings through.

"Mary," John said in a low tone, pulling her aside. "He can't stay here. Dean and Sammy -"

"What do you want to do then, hmm?" Mary questioned, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow stubbornly. "Throw him out onto the street? John, he's an angel, a traumatised abused child whose wings got tortured and was forced to stab a demon in self-defence."

"I'm not saying we throw him out," John argued. "I'm just saying... He can't stay here forever. We have to think of the boys - they're too young to know about demons and that crap."

"To be fair, Castiel is too," Mary pointed out.

The next morning, Dean entered the day room with his hair mussed with sleep and his pyjamas rumpled, dragging Sammy behind him by the hand. He helped his baby brother up onto a chair, grabbing two plastic bowls from the lower cupboards and two spoons before hopping up onto one himself. He swung his legs happily as he waited for his Mom to wake up. However, to his surprise and curiosity, Mary came to fix her sons breakfast ten minutes earlier than usual. She quickly grabbed the cereal and milk and poured the correct amounts in each boy's bowl, ruffling their hair as she passed.

"Now, Dean, Sammy," she said patiently, sitting down in front of them. "We have a guest staying with us. We don't know how long he is going to be here for, and you mustn't tell anybody he is staying with us, understand?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded, munching on his cereal. "Who is he?"

"He's a little boy, just like you, Dean," Mary smiled. "But he's a bit special, okay? You mustn't make fun of him, shout at him or be mean to him. And whatever you do, don't touch his back, okay?"

"Yeah, Mom," Dean nodded enthusiastically.

"'Ommy," Sammy squealed, waving his arms about. "'Kay, 'Ommy!"

"Alright then," Mary said kindly. "John, you can bring Castiel out now."

Dean sat up excitedly as his Dad appeared around the corner, leading somebody by the hand. His jaw dropped and Sammy made a shocked little noise. Castiel glanced at both boys nervously, his wings twitching, and he looked up at John anxiously, his eyes wide and frightened. John just smiled down at him and nodded, nudging him forwards slightly. Dean was still gaping as he stared at the boy with big black wings hiding behind his Dad's legs wearing an old pair of his pyjamas.

"Hi," Castiel greeted them shyly, still partly hiding behind John. "I'm Castiel. You must be Dean n' Sammy?"

"Wow!" was all Dean whispered. "You have wings! Are you like, Birdman?"

Castiel shook his head, coming out from behind John and carefully tottering down the steps to take hold of Mary's open hand, still looking nervous. "No, I dun' know what that is. I'm an Angel."

"Wow!" Dean exclaimed jumping from his seat and running towards him. "Can I touch your wings?"

Castiel's blue eyes went very wide and he stepped back, shaking his head frantically, but then the grabby fists of a two year old yanked at a few of his flight feathers roughly and the angel let out a strangled whimper, jerking away and trembling behind John's legs, little chest heaving. John had a sympathetic expression on his usually stern face as he turned and lifted the winged six year old up into his arms. The angel wrapped his arms around John's neck and made a few small pained murmurs into his t-shirt. John clutched the tiny fragile body to his chest and carefully glanced behind Castiel's back, grimacing. It seemed as if Sammy's insistent tugging had pulled the stitches and twisted a few feathers.

"No, Sammy!" Dean said sternly, glaring at his little brother, though he wasn't actually very mad. "Don't hurt the angel!"

Sammy cooed and then pouted, his eyes filling with tears as his fists still made grabbing actions towards Castiel's wings. Dean slapped his wrist down and the two year old turned back to messily eating his breakfast.

Dean turned to Mary worriedly. "Is the angel okay, Mom?"

Mary cast a concerned look to her husband. "John?"

"Stitches," John said shortly, before carrying the angel from the room and vanishing around the corner.

Mary sighed, turning back to her two sons. "Come on then, boys, let's get you ready for school. I'll be your taxi today."

Dean whined. "But Mom, I wanna see if the angel's okay!"

"Sorry, Dean, but you have to go to school. You can check on Castiel when you get home, alright?"

Mary helped both Dean and Sammy get dressed and ready for school, picking up their already packed backpacks and the keys to the Impala before driving her sons to their school fifteen minutes away. She dropped them off in the playground and gave each of them a hug before returning back to the bunker. Poking her head around, she quickly realised that John still must have been with Castiel in the room they had used last night.

Sammy must have really pulled the stitches, because as she slipped through the door, John was quietly cleaning up the gauze and sewing kit. Castiel was curled up like a cat on the three beds pushed together, his sprained bandaged right wing tucked into his side while he was gingerly flexing his newly stitched left wing. He perked up immediately when Mary came and settled down next to him, brushing a hand through his hair like she had done that last night. The child was still dressed in Dean's spare pyjamas.

"Hi, Mrs Winchester," Castiel greeted her as he sat up before rolling over in the bed so he was cross legged in front of her, running his small hands through his feathers to smooth them out. "Where'd you go? I didn't know where you went and I was worried."

Mary gave a small laugh and explained, "I had to drop Dean and Sammy off at kindergarten. You didn't have to worry, I was safe."

"Are Dean and Sammy safe?" Castiel questioned, eyes narrowed.

"Yep, they're very safe," Mary assured him, standing up and lifting the angel up onto her hip at his insistence.

John finished cleaning up and dumped a small pile of clothes on the end of the middle bed, smiling. It was a pair of jeans and an old AC/DC shirt of Dean's. Mary had to help Castiel change into them. He struggled to get his wings through the t-shirt without ripping his stitches and then refused to leave the room without his trench coat.

"Mrs Winchester, where's my angel blade?" Castiel asked innocently.

"I think John has it, honey," Mary told him. "He doesn't want it around Dean and Sammy because they don't know about the supernatural."

"They don't?" Castiel sounded shocked. "But I thought you were hunters!"

"We are," Mary said, smiling. "Dean and Sammy just don't know about it yet though. They're young and it's very dangerous for them. We want to keep them safe."

"I'll keep them safe, Mrs Winchester," Castiel informed her proudly. "I'll be their guardian angel!"

"That would be very good of you, Castiel," Mary smiled. "Thank you. And you don't have to call me Mrs Winchester, you can call me Mary."

"Thank you, Mary," Castiel whispered into her neck, hugging her tightly.

Castiel rested his cheek on her shoulder as she carried him out into the day room and plonked him down onto the sofa. He didn't seem to mind being carted around and happily flapped his wings a few times. John had already vanished into their work room for another day of research and tracking. 

Mary tapped the edge of the bookcase. The rest of the library was closed and locked up to stop the boys from getting in and being squashed by the heavy books, but they had picked out a few texts and put them on a small bookcase in the day room for referencing,

"Hey, Castiel, can you read?"

Castiel looked mortally offended.

"Of course you can," Mary chuckled. "Well, I have to go and do some work, so you can entertain yourself, I'm sure. Read, explore the bunker; just don't go outside, okay? I don't want to have to explain a winged six year old to the cops. Don't do anything in which you risk hurting yourself further. Try not to break anything while I'm gone."

Castiel looked confused. "Why would I break somethin'?"

"Well, if you're as destructive as Dean is," Mary grinned, "Then it happens by simply being in the same room."

"Surely that's impossible," the winged child insisted.

"I dunno, that's what happens," Mary laughed. "Help yourself to juice boxes and cereal bars, okay? You're probably sensible enough to know not to eat all of them and drink a lot."

She left then, grabbing her laptop on the way out and leaving the angel to do something. She joined John at their desk and immediately started searching out for electrical storms or any strange occurrences in the FBI files and the latest news. At around noon, John snapped his book shut and massaged his temples.

"Should probably go check on the kid," he suggested, rising.

What he found in the day room stopped him in his tracks. Castiel was sitting calmly on the sofa, surrounded by large religious texts. They looked heavy and well-read, and a few of them were open on the floor as well. His wings were splayed out behind him, resting on the sofa cushions and he was currently reading the Bible.

"Hey, kid, enjoying the library?"

Castiel looked up, frowning. "Your Bible s'so wrong, Mr Winchester.The prophet musta not been listening prop'ly to Gabriel when he wrote it." He turned the page and made another face. "S'so wrong, it's insulting."

That's when John noticed the Bible was in Latin. His eyebrows shot up and after he poured himself a glass of good quality liqueur from his top shelf, he strode over and leant over the back of the couch, watching the angel turning pages for about ten minutes.

"You're reading the Bible in Latin?" He finally asked disbelievingly.

"Mm hmm," Castiel responded absentmindedly, turning a page of the frankly massive book on his tiny lap. "I finished your Enochian copy of the Book of Rev'lations an hour ago, so 'cided I should read the Bible, Mr Winchester. It is, after all, 'bout Jesus Christ."

"In Latin?" was all John could say.

"Well, yes, ob'viously," Castiel replied, frowning up at him, his wings twitching. "What else was I 'posed to read it in? Hebrew? Greek?"

"How 'bout English?" John choked.

"That would be borin', Mr Winchester," the angel pouted. "Translation s'half the fun."

"How many languages do you understand?" John asked, walking around the couch and moving a few of the books so he could watch the winged child reading the Latin scripture.

Castiel stared at him for a moment before answering slowly, "All of them,", as if John was incredibly stupid not to know so in the first place.

"You're kidding me."

"I assure you, I'm not 'kidding you'," Castiel frowned. "Could you please pass me tha' copy of The Apocrypha? No, no, not the English one. That's borin'. The one in Japanese. Thank you, Mr Winchester."

John returned to their work room half an hour later looking stunned, and when he tried to tell Mary that the six year old in their day room could read, speak and understand every language in existence or that had ever existed, she laughed and said it was fairly obvious, he was an angel after all. The rest of the afternoon was spent looking up a piece of scripture that may have mentioned the name of the yellow-eyed demon, but it ended up being false. John left to pick up the boys while Mary tidied up.

Castiel had already heaved all of the big religious books back onto the bookshelf by the time Dean ran in with his backpack, beaming. When Sammy stumbled in through the door on wobbly legs, arms stretched out in front of him, Castiel quickly rose and slunk out of the room with his wings between his legs. Dean looked disappointed.

"Aw, why did the angel go away?" Dean complained, dumping his backpack and grabbing one of the cereal bars on the counter.

Mary shook her head. "I don't know, sweetheart."

"He probably doesn't want Sammy pulling his feathers again," John commented. "And Dean, his name is Castiel. You can't just keep calling him the angel."

Dean nodded and ate his cereal bar before running off to find the angel. He searched all the rooms until he found the one where Castiel had been staying and pushing open the door. The angel was sitting in the centre of the three beds fiddling with his bandages on his right wing when Dean poked his head around the door, lighting up. The angel immediately shot up, alert and his wings snapped inwards against his back.

"It's okay, it's Dean, not Sammy," Dean told him, smiling. "I won't pull your wings, I saw that it hurt you this morning."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said quietly. "I'm sorry about earlier. I wanted to stay but my wing hurt."

"I know, but they're better now, right?" Dean asked hopefully. "Dad's real good at making things better. I tripped over once and broke my arm but Dad took me to hospital and he made it all better again."

"Yes, they're better now, Dean," Castiel said, his lips twitching and wings relaxing slightly. "But they still hurt a bit so I have to be very careful."

"Your name's Cat-siel, right? Can I call you Cas for short? Your name's long and real hard to say."

"Alright," Castiel allowed helplessly.

Dean closed the door and stood at the end of the bed, his young green eyes dancing. "Can you fly? 'Cos that would be way cool!"

Castiel nodded. "All angels can fly. That's why we have wings."

"Can I touch 'em?" Dean was itching to feel what the black feathers were like. Were they soft? Strong? Like hair? He wanted to know what they were like and how they moved.

Fear flashed across the angel's face. "I-I'm sorry, Dean. I don't want you to touch them."

"But I want to!" Dean stepped forwards as the angel slipped of the bed.

He tried to reach forwards and touch the feathers, but Castiel just pulled them out of reach. Frustrated, Dean ignored the angel's warning growl and ran towards him, backing the wide-eyes terrified angel into the wall as his hands stretched out to skim the black feathers. Castiel was fighting against him, whimpering and trying to push him back, but Dean was persistent. He wanted to touch the feathers!

"Dean!" his father's voice interrupted loudly. "Stop! Get away from Castiel!"

John grabbed Dean by the shoulder and pulled him away sternly, his eyes livid. Castiel sank down against the wall, curling up into a ball and choking back violent sobs of relief and fear. Mary rushed in and knelt down beside him, hushing gently, but the angel shrank back from her.

"Dean!" John said angrily. "When somebody says no, they mean no! Castiel told you not to touch his wings and you still tried! That was very bad. No TV for a week, and I'm taking away your Metallica tapes. You can go to bed early tonight."

Dean hunched his shoulders and sniffed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just wanted to touch the feathers."

Then Castiel was standing, still shaking and his blue eyes wide. He stumbled forwards with Mary supporting his waist, and he wrapped his arms around Dean and hugged him tightly, resting his wings around Dean's shoulders. John and Mary exchanged quick glances. Dean hesitantly raised his hand then jumped back when Castiel shot him a cautious look.

"S'okay," Castiel sniffed. "You can touch. Be careful, Dean."

Dean stroked the soft black down and sighed contently into the angel' shoulder. Sammy, where he was stumbling by the door into the back of his mother's legs, gave a loud gleeful squeal and ran forwards on unsteady legs, pulling and whining at Dean's elbow until he was let into the hug.

"Sorry, Cas," Dean said quietly. "I didn't wanna hurt you."

"Cas!" Sammy chirped. "Me wanna hug!"

"You can have a hug too, Sammy." Cas now had one wing wrapped around each of the Winchester brothers and was holding them tightly.

"Alright boys," Mary announced. "Time for bed."

"But Moooooooom!" Dean whined.

"No buts, you have school tomorrow, and Castiel and I will be going out to buy him some new clothes." Mary ushered her two sons out of the room, despite their complaints and moaning. "Come on, you two!"

John smiled as he watched both Dean and Sammy glare at the feet as they were dragged from their new guest's room. Castiel was now sitting on the edge of the bed swinging his feet back and forth, his wings occasionally twitching. John grabbed Castiel's pyjamas and handed them to the winged child, who looked down at them in confusion.

"Okay, Castiel. Time for you to go to bed too," John told him.

"But Mr Winchester," Castiel protested feebly.

"Ah - what did Mary say?" John raised an eyebrow.

"I know, Mr Winchester, but I don't need to sleep!" the angel said desperately, clutching the space-ship pyjamas to his chest and his wings quivering slightly. "I dun' know how!"

John was speechless for a moment. How exactly was he meant to explain sleeping? Sleeping was natural to humans but to an angel... John thought for a moment.

"Well, you... You close your eyes and clear your mind. Don't think of anything. Oh, and it has to be dark. And then you fall asleep because your tired."

"But I don't -"

"Castiel." John stared at him sternly. "It is late, and you need to go to bed."

Cas shrunk back slightly, saying quietly, "'Kay, Mr Winchester. I'll try." He looked up at him shyly. "Please can you help me get changed? I dun' wanna hurt my wings more and it's hard to get them through."

John helped gently pull his wings through the slits in the back of the pyjamas then waited for the small angel to climb into bed and pull the blankets over him, splaying out his wings onto the three beds pushed together. John flicked the lights off and prepared to shut the door.

"Goodnight, Mr Winchester," came the whispered voice and the rustling of feathers.

John couldn't help but smile slightly. "Goodnight, Castiel. Try and get some sleep."

He shut the door, listening for a few moments to check the child didn't get up and start fooling around like Dean often did. But he wasn't to worry, Castiel was really a little angel, only sighing slightly, and there was the sound of rippling sheets as turned on the bed.

As he strode down the steps into their work room, Mary looked up from where she was tapping away at her laptop. "Castiel?"

"In bed," John replied. "He insists he doesn't need to sleep. I had to explain how. I mean, how do you explain to an angel how to sleep?"

"I'm glad I didn't have your job. Dean and Sammy fell asleep almost instantly. They must have had a tiring day at school."

John picked up his papers and his laptop, and began researching again. Their only most recent position of the yellow-eyed demon was from three months ago. They needed to keep tracking him, somehow.

After twenty minutes, both Mary and John went completely still when they heard the door creak open slightly, and the soft slap of bare feet on the floor, and the tell-tale sound of flapping wings. Frozen, both adults watched as the dark-haired winged child's head popped up, those stunning blue eyes curiously sweeping the contents of their research, before the angel struggled to hop up onto one of the chairs, his wings beating furiously to help heave him up. Once he was up on the chair, Castiel blinked at them both and gave a nervous smile.

"Castiel," John said calmly. "I told you to go to bed. Did you fall asleep?"

The angel nodded, but hung his head miserably. "I dun' wanna go to sleep, Mr Winchester. I dun' wanna see Gabriel fight the demons. He got hurt bad and then the demons were tearing my wings again." His cobalt eyes were filled with tears. "I'm real scared, Mr Winchester. What if the demons come here and find me and Dean and Sammy and you and then they hurt you?"

Mary gave Castiel a small smile from over her laptop. "It's alright, Castiel. We're protected her, remember? No demon can enter the house. We're safe." She turned to John, looking sympathetic. "John, we can't make him sleep if he's having nightmares."

"Alright, Castiel. You can stay up with us," John gave in. "Just don't get in the way. Mary and I are doing important work."

Castiel nodded, looking at some CCTV pictures of the yellow-eyed demon. "I know, you're hunting Azazel. If you wanna know where he is, I last saw him seventeen miles South of Lebanon. He's the one who ambushed me and Gabriel."

Mary and John exchanged shocked glances.

"Azazel?" John questioned.

The angel gazed at him with a slight frown. "Uh huh. Azazel. He was an angel, but then he Fell. Gabriel always said he was a 'real Lucifer loyalist'. I dun' know what that means but it has Lucifer in it so it must be real bad. He's a demon now, real high up, and he has yellow eyes whenever he takes possession of somebody. If you're hunting him, you won' find him until he comes to collect from deals." Castiel tilted his head. "Why are you hunting him, Mr Winchester?"

Mary inhaled shakily. "We believe he wanted Sammy."

Castiel's eyes hardened. "Well he can't 'ave him," he said defensively. "If you're hunting him that means you want to kill him, right?"

John nodded. "If we can."

The angel closed his eyes in concentration and went completely still, his wings freezing and eyes flickering beneath his eyelids. To Mary and John's alarm, the angel's breathing got heavier and his fingertips started glowing slightly with blinding white light. After a few moments, the angel's eyes flashed open, and for a moment they were illuminated brightly. He slumped back into his chair, exhausted and Castiel would have fallen off and collapsed onto the floor if Mary hadn't jumped into action and cradled his tiny fragile body to her chest.

"Castiel?" She questioned, and she sounded worried. "Honey?"

"S'okay Mary. Was jus' tryin' to find Azazel," Castiel mumbled into her shoulder. "He's in Denver, Colorado." Then he yawned loudly. Then, he looked afraid. "What was that? That felt weird!"

"It was a yawn, Castiel. It means you're tired. Back to bed with you then, little angel," Mary smiled, lifting him up onto her hip and carrying his limp body down out of their work room.

As they headed back towards Castiel's room, he wiggled and struggled, whining slightly. "No... Dun' wanna go sleep alone, wanna be with Dean 'n' Sammy..."

"I suppose..."

Mary sighed and switched her path towards Dean and Sammy's corridor. John followed behind silently, still trying to process the information they had been given by a six year old angel. Luckily, the three rooms on the corridor were all connected by doors between walls. Dean and Sammy always had theirs open, and their beds were as close to the door as possible. Now, Mary opened up the unused room and the door that looked into Dean's. She tucked Castiel into bed, and the angel curled up on his side with his injured wings half-folded behind him.

John sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled, running a hand through the angel's black hair, and he sighed contently. "We might find some use for you yet, Cas."


End file.
